StoneHardPassion (3 page)

There was a slight tingle as she enchanted the pattern onto
his back and buttocks.

“Turn slightly to your left, please.”

Without thought he did as she asked, his cock so hard it
didn’t even bob with the movement. Her fingers smoothed the paper around his
hip, down onto his thigh. Her scent, slightly smoky, with a hint of musk,
wafted to his nostrils. A shudder started at the base of his spine and rocketed
up his back.

Think of something else.

“Tell me one of your stories, Jazz.”

Her fingers seemed to hesitate slightly, but there was
nothing but a hint of amusement in her voice when she replied. “I meant it when
I said I’ve told you all of them. I think I’m tapped out. Okay, turn the other
way now.”

She was trying to kill him, he was sure. He turned, caught
sight of himself in the mirror at the back of the room. It was the first time
he’d ever seen himself naked and aroused, but it was the juxtaposition of his
and Jasmina’s bodies that really held his attention. His was so big and pale,
hers slim and tawny. They were so close together, touching, and that made
another shudder fire through his muscles. He swallowed a moan.

“What about—” He stopped, swallowed again, then said the
first thing that came to mind. “You never told me how you came to be traveling
around in the first place. How about telling me that?”

He’d already felt the pattern affix to his skin, but for a
moment she didn’t move. Looking into the mirror, knowing she couldn’t see,
Vidar let his hungry gaze roam her reflection. The black leather pants and
sleeveless vest fit her like a second skin, hugging firm, high breasts, slim
hips and thighs. Her tattoo only emphasized the wiry strength of her arms, the
reds, oranges and gold of the roc a perfect complement to her skin. She always
wore her hair up, sometimes under a cap or, like tonight, rolled into a casual
bunch at the top of her head. It left her throat bare, and his fingers clenched
into fists, the urge to stroke that smooth, glorious skin almost too much to suppress.

As though feeling his regard, she looked up. Her gaze swept
over his reflection and he swore he could feel it rush like fire over his skin
too. She licked her bottom lip and her fingers definitely trembled against his
skin. Then she met his gaze in the mirror and gave his hip a little push with
her hand, indicating he should turn back around.

“I can do that.” Was it his imagination, or did her voice
sound a little raspy? “It is an interesting story, if I might say so myself.”

Vidar grasped the edge of the table and squeezed his eyes
closed as the machine started to buzz. “Tell me.”

He was hoping to sink into her tale the way he usually did.
Jasmina had once explained storytelling was an important part of jinn life, and
her gift for it was evident. She wove words into strangely beautiful patterns
and used her voice the way other people used their hands in emphasis.

There was the first touch of the needle and Vidar began to
relax. Despite her hand moving lower and lower, holding the flesh in place to
be inked, they were back on a more businesslike footing. And there was nothing
unusual about the fact that she didn’t start the story right away. Making him
wait, building anticipation, was part of her natural showmanship.

She lifted the needle away from his skin and wiped the area
with gauze.

“I come from a very traditional, old-fashioned jinn family.”
She pitched her voice so he could hear it clearly over the hum of the machine
as she went back to applying the tattoo. “So old-fashioned that if my father
had his way, I would never see anything but the inside of his house or, should
I marry, that of my husband.”

Jasmina paused to wipe at the tattoo again, and gave a
little chuckle.

“What’s so funny about that?” Vidar asked.

“I was just picturing my father seeing me tattooing your ass
and reading my mind, realizing just how badly I want to fuck you. He’d lock me
away forever.”

Every muscle in his body went into rigor, and Vidar couldn’t
restrain the low moan that broke from his throat.

So much for getting lost in the story.

She definitely was trying to kill him. He just knew it.

Chapter Three

I really should stop doing that.

But Jasmina wasn’t really contrite. Sure, Vidar was hesitant
about them sleeping together, but she wanted to keep reminding him the door was
open. All he had to do was walk through. Although feeling him stiffen beneath
her hand gave her a small pang of remorse, it wasn’t enough to make her stop. A
quick glance in the mirror confirmed that while intellectually he wasn’t ready
to take her up on the offer, physically he was still raring to go.

Besides the renewed tension in his body, Vidar made no
comment so, as she moved on to outline the rest of the first root, she
continued her tale.

“While most jinn families have moved away from the
traditional lifestyle—allowing their female members almost as much freedom as
the males—my family has clung to the old ways. My father’s wives and daughters
were secluded from all outside men, kept at home until they’re married and
allowed to study only subjects deemed fitting for women.”

“What kinds of subjects are those?”

Jasmina smiled to herself, pleased he’d picked up on that so
readily. One of the joys of telling Vidar a story was his quick grasp of the
important points.

“The jinn, as I’m sure you know, are the master enchanters
of our world. There are other races able to enchant items, but none do it as
well, or as elegantly, as we do. It takes a high level of expertise to ensure
the object does exactly what you want it to, without fail. Jinn women are
particularly skilled in figuring out what enchantments will bring about the
desired result, and are trained from early in life to master the necessary
abilities.”

She paused, leaning back to check her work. Vidar shifted
slightly, and Jasmina was distracted by the movement of his ass and thigh
muscles. Damn, but he was gorgeous.

“So are there other subjects boys are allowed to learn, and
girls aren’t?”

With a little sigh she went back to work, and to her story.

“Boys are taught many other spellcasting abilities deemed
unfit for girls, like stun spells, along with mindreading, alchemy and
translocation. Anything a woman could use as a tool to best a man, or avoid
being overseen by her male relatives, was forbidden.”

Vidar looked over his shoulder, almost jogging her hand.
“Mindreading?”

Unable to resist, she patted his butt, supposedly in
reassurance but really just because she wanted to. “Don’t worry. There are only
a handful of faie races without natural shields against it. The jinn who use it
most are those that venture to the human world.”

He was still staring at her. “Do you know how to do it?”

Jasmina wasn’t about to admit she did, or that she’d tried
to use it on him, to no avail. Scowling up at him, she asked, “Do you want to
hear the story or play twenty questions?”

With one last, hard look, he silently turned back around.
She gave a little huff of annoyance, just for effect.

“So, as I was saying. That was the type of home I grew up
in, but I was lucky. My mother came from a more progressive family. She believed
knowledge equated to power, taught me a lot of the forbidden arts and
encouraged me to read about everything going on outside of our cloistered
world. I used to sneak books from my father’s library and the more I read the
more I wanted to know. When I asked my mother if we could use our skills in
translocation to go out into the world, she told me no. The entire house was
enchanted to allow my father, and those guarding it, to know when anyone
entered or left.”

“Huh. Why do I think you found a way out, despite that?”

Jasmina laughed. “Because you know me very well, Vidar
Jarlsen.”

The sound he made could have been an answering chuckle, or
it could have been a grunt of pain, since she was tattooing right over his
coccyx. “Yeah, right.”

“You do, you know.” Why she felt the need to reassure him of
that point, she wasn’t sure. “A great deal better than you probably realize.
Anyway, as you said, one day I discovered a secret—one which was supposed to be
held only by the male members of our family. I found a book written by my
great-great-grandfather, and in it he revealed there were two portals, one in
the house, one in the garden, where you could translocate out without anyone
knowing. Clearly even back then the men were up to no good.”

“That’s timeless.”

Something in his tone made her glance in the mirror to try
to see his expression, as though that would do any good. Between his habitual
deadpan face and all the hair, she didn’t know why she bothered. With a small
shake of her head and a little grin at her silliness, Jasmina went back to
work, and the story.

“Of course I had to figure out if my father was still using
the same places his great-grandfather had created, or had moved them elsewhere.
For days I spied on the spot in the garden, the one accessible to me, and to my
surprise saw my eldest brother, Ahmet, use it. Then I knew—the world was open
to me in a way it never had been before.”

“Was that when you took off? What did your mother have to
say about you leaving?”

An aching pang made her sigh. Even after all this time it
still hurt. “By then my mother had died, and I was pretty much alone. The other
wives had their own children to care for, and I was old enough to look after
myself. I didn’t mind, because my solitude allowed me to read and practice the
arts my mother taught me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jasmina felt his muscles tense and then relax
again. “Losing a mother when you’re young isn’t an easy thing.”

It was said as a fact, and Jasmina knew he was speaking from
experience. Vidar rarely talked about himself. No amount of coaxing and hinting
got him to open up very much. She’s even gone so far as to do research on
trolls to try to understand him better. From what she’d read they tended to be
solitary or live in small family groups, mostly lead by a matriarch. There were
cases where troll mothers simply walked away, looking for a new life, leaving
the children to fend for themselves. Had that happened to Vidar? Would he even
tell her if she asked?

She concentrated on the line she was inking, took a silent,
deep draught of air into her lungs.

“No, it isn’t easy. But you apparently know that for
yourself.”

Once more his muscles tightened for a moment, seemed to be
willed to loosen up. “Yes.”

For a few seconds the only sound in the room was the buzz of
the machine, and Jasmina released the breath she was holding. Clearly he wasn’t
going to elaborate. Dammit, the man knew almost her entire life story but
wouldn’t share even a tidbit of his own with her. A little flash of annoyance
made her rub at the line she’d just tattooed a bit harder than was strictly
necessary.

“Anyway, I didn’t ‘take off’ as you so eloquently put it.
Not right away. I wasn’t unhappy at home, just curious about life outside. Once
I was sure I wouldn’t be detected, I started disguising myself and slipping
away at night.”

For a moment the wonder of it came back to her, as though
she were reliving the first glimpse of the wider world.

“Oh Vidar, it was dazzling, amazing. For the first time in
my life I was seeing people of all types, exploring life in all its divergent
glory. The colors and scents confused and delighted me. The bustle of crowds,
variety of faces made my head spin. I wandered through the souk, gawking at the
stalls, the merchants and their customers. There was a club, and I stood outside,
staring at the people going in and out, listening to music I had never even
known existed. As I walked I eavesdropped on those around me, hearing snippets
of stories, words I didn’t understand, and I wanted to know more.”

In her excitement she’d stopped tattooing him, and she
laughed softly before bending back to work.

“I spent almost every night out exploring, although I didn’t
go very far. There was no need to. I had so much to see and experience just
outside the walls of my family’s house. Disguised as a maid, I had my first
love affair, saw my first live concert, swam in the sea. While I enjoyed the
luxury of living in my father’s home, I had this other life, completely
separate and terribly exciting. It was, I thought, the best of both worlds.”

She let her voice trail away, building tension, and was
rewarded when Vidar said, “Until?”

His impatience made her smile.

“Until my father decided it was time for me to marry.”

The muscles beneath her hand went rock hard.

“Marry?”

“Uh-huh. Of course the thought filled me with terror. The
man he wanted me to marry came from a family as traditional as ours, which
meant I would once more be locked away. Worse though was the fact I was no
longer a virgin. How would I hide that from my husband? And if he found out, what
would he do to me?”

Slowly his muscles lost their tension, although a hint of it
remained. “So what did you do?”

Jasmina snorted. “What I didn’t do was think. If I had
simply pretended to be compliant, I could have escaped without a problem.
Instead, I told my father I didn’t want to marry and he locked me away.”

Vidar moved slightly, spreading his hands farther apart on
the edge of the table, his fingers clenching against the leather-covered
padding. “But you could just translocate out of wherever he put you, couldn’t
you?”

“Not from that place.”

He turned his head to look down at her and, holding the
machine away from his skin, she met his gaze.

“Where was that?”

“He bottled me.”

Vidar’s brow creased. “He what?”

“Bottled me. Locked me in a bottle specially enchanted so
that once the cork was in place I couldn’t translocate or be transported out.”

“I thought that was just a myth.”

He looked so horrified she had to laugh. “No, it happens.
Only a father or husband can have the vessel created to trap a daughter or
wife. Each bottle and stopper are enchanted to only hold a specific person. But
it sounds a lot worse than it really is. With a little spellcraft, inside can
be as big or as small as you want it to be. Quite comfortable if you don’t mind
being alone with nothing to do but play around with your environment.”

“How did you get out?”

Jasmina dropped her gaze, absently dabbing the needle on a
sponge put near at hand for cleaning the tip. This part of the tale was a
little more difficult to tell.

“My father transported my intended husband into the bottle
with me.”

Vidar turned around. Reaching down, he grasped her chin and
lifted her face so she was looking up into his eyes, which were icy-blue, cold.

“He what?”

Jasmina shrugged, trying to make light of it. “I guess he
figured once Mahmud had his way with me, I wouldn’t object to the marriage
anymore. Neither of them knew I’d learned stunning spells from my mother, and
wasn’t afraid to use them. I kept him immobilized, half out of my mind with
terror about what would happen next. But I was ready by the time my father took
out the cork. I let my father translocate me out of the bottle and then, when
he brought Mahmud out, I grabbed the bottle and translocated myself out into
the garden. Before they could catch me I used the secret portal and was gone. I
never looked back.” Forcing a smile, she added, “I even kept the bottle. Going
into it is great for recreating places I want to see but can’t actually get
to.”

She left out the part about seeing the cork in her father’s
hands as she fled, and her abiding fear that one day someone would trap her
again. Even knowing her bottle was locked securely away at home didn’t lessen
the anxiety. Each stopper was enchanted for a specific jinn, so as long as it
existed she was never entirely assured of her freedom. All she could do was
keep alert to make sure no one snuck up on her and enchanted her back into the
bottle.

As if sensing some of what she was keeping back, his gaze
grew searching, yet was so filled with empathy she felt suddenly naked,
vulnerable. She was afraid he’d say something that would make the tears
suddenly pricking behind her eyes begin to fall.

“Where do you recreate, in your bottle?”

Jasmina let her breath out with a little sigh. “The souk
sometimes, or an oasis I discovered out in the desert. Places too close to home
for me to dare visit.”

Vidar nodded slightly, but there were so many questions
still lingering in his eyes. “Did your father never catch up to you?”

“He never tried.” Surprising to feel her throat tighten with
that admission. She thought she’d come to terms with her father’s actions a
long time ago. “I eventually got word that he’d disowned me, forbade anyone to
mention my name ever again. He didn’t have a choice, really, all things
considered. I’d disgraced the family name.”

His moustache twitched, his lips firmed to a straight line,
and for a moment she thought he might argue the point, but hoped he didn’t
pursue it. Remembering had brought all the old pain back with almost shocking
intensity and she just couldn’t talk about it anymore.

“So, that’s how I turned into a vagabond.” She forced her
lips into a smile. “And ended up here. Quite a story, right?”

“Yes.”

He looked and sounded so grave, she knew she had to change
the subject, or risk turning into a blubbering mess. Quirking her eyebrows, she
trailed her fingers over his thigh. “So, now that you’ve heard the whole thing
are you going to let me get back to work?”

Vidar’s eyes widened, as though he suddenly remembered he
was naked, facing her, his now-flaccid cock pretty much in her face. How she
wished he’d just give in, not turn around, let her have her way with him.
Somehow, even more than before, she wanted the physical contact, as though to
cement this new phase of their relationship. Or perhaps as a means of comfort.

The alacrity with which he turned back to face the table was
rather disheartening. Jasmina gripped the nozzle tighter, wrestling with hurt
and need. It bugged her how little she knew about him, how hard he was to read.
Being honest with herself, she’d just assumed if she offered to sleep with him,
he’d jump at the chance. As polite and restrained as he’d been, it had been
impossible not to notice his erections while they were together. She’d never
dreamed he’d be so resistant to the idea of having sex with her and, while she
felt a little sheepish at her arrogance, his rejection still stung.